Will the light of the morning,
Warm my soul,
Or the chill of night remain?

Will the rain that falls,
Bring new life,
Or fail to ease the drought?

Will the hands of fate,
Lead me home,
Or further from my path?

Will the eyes of man,
See my soul,
Or who I don't want to be?

I rip the blank paper - protecting the truth
Hidden words, soon to tell
Of more than formalities,
Of a line of light,
Bleeding out from a half-open door,
Unlocked and slowly beckoning,
For one foot forward, one finger on the handle,
And a gentle warmth on my face,
A hint on my lips: smile
Hope lies ahead, freedom,
A start.

Something in my head,
Saying "Go on!"
"Why not tell them?"
Something else says,
"Well, because..."

One of my friends,
Saying "Go on!"
"Why not live a little?"
My voice replying,
"Well, because..."

All of my heart,
Saying "Go on!"
"Why not be yourself for once?"
And all of my fear reminds me,
"Well, because..."

But then my heart says,
"Forget reason, follow me."
So I do.

Time slips over me
Pointless thoughts command my mind
Another night wasted.

The sands own you
You skin is at their call
The call rings in your ears
And stings your tongue
Listen; the pain is growing
Your thoughts are fading
Buried, are you?
Soon the sands will be yours.

From the far-off edges
The voices jumble in disharmony
Lost, confused dissonance commands the air
But drawn in, by unseen will,
Unknown intentions reach them
And you
Close to the centre
As words merge, overlap and mix
And in glorious difference declare
We Are.

Characters hide
In the dark
And hide
In the light
But only some
Escape to
My hand
And
Find a way
Into
Other minds
And other hearts

That's it.
Finished.
Two years of work.
All.
Over.
At last.

Now.

What will I do tomorrow?

One foot in front of
The other trailing behind
Pace myself, keep on

Must I move?
Here I am safe, happy,
Surrounded by comforts,
No eyes watch me,
The shadows rest where I tell them,
And clothe me when I ask.

Here I bathe in simplicity,
In the arms of convenience,
Beyond the reach of fear,
Outside the influence of pressure,
Why would I leave?
Were it not for duty.

New and old,
They are my commands,
And they must be obeyed.

A bullet hits my brain,
Fired from within,
And screams from the knife in my hand.

A blade hits my wrist,
And blood is set free,
At last released in pain and tears.

A breath hits my lungs,
And no more.

Back to reality,
One show over, another months away,
Refocus efforts, catch up those things we
brushed aside in our haste and worry.

Back to normal,
Though the memories remain strong,
Around me the stage-lights have faded,
Time to return to monotony.

Back to fear,
That spark in my nerves growing now,
That shudder in my shoulders as it nears,
Embark, escape, evade? Lose touch?